Those He Left Behind
by Bulletproof Bolly
Summary: So it was real. So he was really gone. And he'd left this boy behind- nothing more than a child, who needed him, who loved him and yet had never really had the chance to get to know him. From that point of view, Ros had more in common with Wes than anyone else; so Harry was right, it made perfect sense. AU, set after 7.1, rated T for language .
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The child's breath clouded the air in front of him as he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. He froze; it must be his dad! It had to be. None of the other boys' parents ever arrived halfway through a match. Slowly, wanting to savour the moment, he turned. His classmates ran past him, still fully immersed in their rugby match. But the boy didn't move. His eyes locked on the figure standing next to the pitch. It wasn't his dad; but he recognised the man- he was the man he'd gone to the races with. The man who liked dogs. His lips began to curl upwards slightly, but as he met the man's gaze, his smile stopped in its tracks; and, in an instant he knew what had happened. He just knew. He found himself walking towards the man as his arms opened. He walked into them, welcoming the warmth, burying his head in the man's black coat. Darkness. Nothingness. Comfort. It had been a long time since anyone held him that way.

Standing a good few feet away, unnoticed, Ros watched as Harry's head bent down to place a kiss on the top of the child's head. She shook her head slightly and looked down at the grass, biting her lip. So it was real. So he was really gone. And he'd left this boy behind- nothing more than a child, who needed him, who loved him and yet had never really had the chance to get to know him.  
_Who exactly are we describing here?_

After several minutes, Harry stepped back, although he kept his hand on Wes' shoulder.  
"Come on, there's someone I want you to meet," he said as he slowly turned Wes Carter away from the rugby pitch.


	2. The Journey 'Home'

**The Journey 'Home'**

Ros started the car and slowly backed out of the gravelly school courtyard as Harry turned around in the passenger seat to talk to Wes, whose eyes were wide and lost, but remarkably dry. _And remarkably like his father's._ Ros shook the thought out of her head and forced herself to listen to the conversation.

"Wes, I've spoken to your headmaster, and we've decided that it's probably best if you stay home from school for a while, and perhaps go back after the Christmas holidays, if you want to. It's up to you, and we can talk about it to figure out when it's best for you to return. We just thought it might be better for you to be home for a week or so, at the very least."  
"Home?" For an instant, Ros saw those eyes fill with excitement in the rear-view mirror. Then reality hit the child again, his expression dropped completely. "But-" And then, after a few seconds, a shadow of hope returned. "Is Jenny coming back?"  
She made sure to give Harry a sharp, reproachful sideways glance, and the older man sighed.  
"No, Wes, we haven't contacted Jenny yet. You'll be staying with Ros, at least for a week or so, until we get things sorted."  
Wes nodded slightly.  
"I see," he said softly, and then he turned to look out of the window. Harry turned back around in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds.

"Harry, I don't know whether you've noticed, but I don't currently _have_ a house."  
"I've arranged a safe-house."  
Ros sighed slightly, but kept driving in silence for another few minutes before she spoke again.  
"Look, I really don't see-"  
"You're the closest to his next of kin," this surprised Ros, and she turned to stare at Harry for a few seconds before coolly regaining her composure.  
"As flattering as that is," the truth, behind a veil of sarcasm. Just Ros' style. "I think you'll find I died first, so technically-"  
"He's not deaf, Ros," Harry cut her off, quiet but sharp.  
"Oh, so he's not all his father then-"  
"Rosalind!"  
The car pulled to a stop.  
"You drive," Ros hissed, unbuckling her seat-belt and walking round the car, getting back in on the other side. As Harry switched into the drivers' seat.

The rest of the drive progressed in silence, with Ros fixing her gaze on the scenery outside as she forced herself not to cry. She couldn't lose control here. Not in front of Harry, or Wes.


	3. Terrorists, Not TeddyBears

**Terrorists, Not Teddy-Bears**

Wes watched, blue eyes wide with awe, as Harry tapped a code into the key-pad by the door and then entered the safe-house. The boy followed him in, and Ros came last, carrying a suitcase of clothes they'd stopped off at her hotel to collect on the way. She looked surprisingly calm after her behaviour in the car; Wes couldn't seem to work her out. He'd seen her before, with his father, but only ever fleetingly, and all he'd ever really known was that his dad seemed different when she was around. And now...he couldn't put his finger on it. She didn't _feel_ like a person. She looked so cold, so detached...but she was still obviously upset. Both she and Harry were.

That was another thing that confused Wes; from the way Harry spoke to the woman, it was obvious that they were close. But not like his parents had been, or the way his father had been with Jenny. Sometimes it almost felt as if Harry was telling her off, not like a boss, but like a parent...maybe that was it. Maybe Harry was her father. Was he old enough? Wes couldn't really tell- he wasn't good at guessing grown-ups' ages.  
But what Wes _was _good at was guessing who to trust. He knew he could never be sure; he'd been brought up to be aware of that for as long as he could remember; but he knew how to get a pretty good idea.  
And he trusted Harry. Because his dad had trusted Harry. Because Harry was nice to him. Because Harry didn't treat him like a little boy, and Wes liked that. He liked being spoken to like a grown-up.  
And Ros seemed alright. His dad had trusted her too, and if Harry did, Wes would. He was mature enough to realise that he didn't have much of a choice.

"Wes, your room's the first to the right down the hall," his thoughts were interrupted by Harry's voice. "Why don't you go and have a look around and get settled in? I'll come and take your suitcase through for you." Harry smiled, and led the way down the hall, leaving Ros standing in the main room of the safe-house alone.

Like all safe-houses, it was basic. Comfortable, clean, and most importantly (and obviously) safe; but basic. The entrance hall, living room and kitchen were open-plan; spacious, well-lit, and decently decorated; better than a hotel room, at least.

Ros walked over to the open kitchen and opened a few cupboards. They seemed to be stocked with food; not that Ros was sure exactly what she'd do with the supplies. Cooking had never been her strong point.

"Not the cosiest of places, I'm afraid," Harry's voice came from behind her, and she turned around, shrugging slightly as she leaned back against the counter.  
"Well to be fair, Harry, I'm not the cosiest of people," she replied dryly, "or the most motherly. I deal with terrorists, not teddy-bears."  
"Look, Ros-"  
"I've got a job to do. How the hell am I supposed to look after a child?" Harry sighed. He knew what was coming next wasn't going to be easy.  
"I think it's best if you take a few days off. Stay here, get some rest. You need it." Ros stared at him incredulously.  
"No, what I need is to find Kachimov and-"  
"That's what we all need, Ros, and if the opportunity arises, you'll be the first to know. But you're not officially alive again yet, so lie low for a bit. You're doing your job by taking care of Wes."  
"I'm not a babysitter. Can't you get someone else to do it? I'm sure he and Kaplan have some common interests." At that, Harry sighed and shook his head slightly.  
"Look, I know things between you and Adam never worked out the way they could have done, but-"  
"They couldn't have worked out in any-"  
"What I'm trying to say is that he trusted you and he would want it to be you. He would want it to be someone he could rely on."  
"Because we all know he was such a great judge of character!" Ros retorted quickly. Harry appeared taken aback for a few seconds, and then slowly he shook his head as Ros turned away, but he made no move to stop her.  
After a few minutes, she turned to face him again.

"How much does Wes know?" Her voice was softer than before, with a hint of grudging acceptance.  
"About us? He knows enough."  
"And about-" she didn't need to finish the sentence, Harry understood, and he gave a small nod.  
"If he asks, tell him the truth; that he died saving people's lives...and that he won't have felt a thing."  
Ros nodded in agreement, and then looked up at Harry, offering him a sad smile. "You'll be fine, Rosalind...in more ways than one," he reassured softly, placing a hand on his officer's shoulder and holding it there for a few seconds before turning away and making his way towards the door. "Wes, I'm heading off now!" He called down the hall.

Wes' head appeared, sticking out of the door of his room, and then he walked down the hall, standing in front of Harry.  
"I'll come and see you again tomorrow," Harry said, patting Wes' shoulder. The boy nodded and smiled sadly, and suddenly Harry had an idea. "Tell you what, why don't I bring Scarlet over tomorrow? I'm going to be very busy for the next few days, and she tends to get terribly lonely when she's home alone; do you think you could look after her for me?" He smiled, ignoring Ros' wide-eyed glare. Wes nodded, and then turned round to face the woman.  
"Well, I've always been more of a cat person to be honest," she said coolly, looking at Harry.  
"Same as Daddy," Wes replied.  
"Funny," Ros muttered under her breath, loud enough for only Harry to hear, "he always had a propensity for bitches." Harry threw her a stern look, but said nothing.  
"Good night," he said, deliberately overlapping with the end of Ros' sentence before giving Wes another pat on the shoulder and walking out of the flat.

Ros looked down at Wes, unsure what to do. Then, after a few seconds of silence, she forced a smile.  
"So...is your room alright?" She asked- the first thing that came to mind. The boy nodded and looked up at her with wide blue eyes. Eyes that were extremely familiar, in a way that she found strangely comforting. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.


End file.
